


Yet Death Cannnot Part Us

by BurntGayPotato



Series: Requests!! [7]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Gen, Guardian Angels, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poetry, ghost!John, sorta??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntGayPotato/pseuds/BurntGayPotato
Summary: John had never really expected death to be painless. Especially when he knew he’d most likely be dying in battle, and gun wounds are hardly painless. But he never expected it to hurt so much after he was already dead. He thought he’d just move on, go to heaven, hell, or the other side that everyone spoke of. He didn't go to any of those places, though. No, when he faded completely, he woke up feeling lighter than ever, in a familiar kitchen.
Relationships: Minor Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens - Relationship, not focused on romantic relationships otherwise
Series: Requests!! [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633117
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Yet Death Cannnot Part Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonpotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonpotter/gifts).



> ***DISCLAIMER***  
> I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE POETRY USED IN THIS WORK; I MERELY FOUND IT WHILE SEARCHING GOOGLE. IF THERE IS A CERTAIN AUTHOR TO THE POEM, I WILL INCLUDE IT IN THE END NOTES. IF THERE IS NOT AN AUTHOR INCLUDED, ASSUME I LOOKED FOR THE CREDITS AND FOUND MIXED RESULTS ON MIXED SOURCES.

John had never really expected death to be painless. Especially when he knew he’d most likely be dying in battle, and gun wounds are hardly painless. But he never expected it to hurt so much  _ after  _ he was already dead. He thought he’d just move on, go to heaven, hell, or the other side that everyone spoke of. He didn't go to any of those places, though. No, when he faded completely, he woke up feeling lighter than ever, in a familiar kitchen. 

He looked around, testing what he could do. He could walk - or, float, really - and he could hear, smell and see things. The only thing he couldn't do was make sound. At least, his footsteps didn't. And neither did the ruffling of his bloodstained clothing. However, when he opened his mouth, he found he could speak. He wasn't entirely sure anyone could hear him though.

He then made his way upstairs, his feet silent on the wooden stairs, hand gliding along the railing slowly. When he reached the top, there were three rooms in his immediate view. One of them looked like a study of sorts, the other two looked to be bedrooms. He walked into one, and suddenly he realized where he was.

Eliza Hamilton lay on the bed, sleeping like, well, a pregnant woman, which she was. He remembered all the things Alex had said about wanting to be able to get home to see his son after the war ended. John hoped more than anything that he would survive to see his son’s birth. 

But that wasn't the point right now, the point was, that John was in the Hamilton household, and he was  _ dead.  _ Really though, he seemed more like a ghost than a human, and he sure wasn't making the usual amount of human noise, or weighing the usual amount he weighed. 

Right, so he had one thing figured out, he was a ghost. 

_ Why was he in the Hamilton house?? _

Did he have unfinished business here? He knew that he’d always loved Alexander, but he’d also known that while Alex loved him back, he also loved Eliza. However, John was 100% okay with Alex marrying Eliza because really, they were both happy, and it's not like Eliza was forcing Alex to let go of all his feelings for John. 

In fact, Eliza seemed much more at ease with Alex and John’s forbidden relationship than he would’ve originally thought. It was more like she was a bit sad for them, since they'd never be able to be together. But it was okay, because John wanted the both of them to be happy, and they clearly were. So that was that, and he clearly didn't hate Eliza or anything. So that pretty much crossed out the potential of having unfinished love-affair crap.

Maybe he was supposed to wait for Alex to come home, to deliver some final words, or something. That would make sense. In fact, maybe he could tell them to Eliza right then. He really wanted to get this whole thing done and over with. He was so tired, and he wasn't even sure if ghosts could sleep. So he walked (floated??) over to Eliza, and tried to shake her gently. That didn't work, his hand went through her, unlike with the other objects he touched. Right, so no touching people. He tried to just speak to her.

“Eliza,” he whispered. “Liza, wake up. Can you hear me? Eliza?” She didn't even twitch. Alright, so talking to alive people was also a no-go. Unless she was just a heavy sleeper. He knew that it must be hard carrying around a small human in your stomach all day, so he wouldn't be surprised if it was always difficult to wake her. 

John sighed, and drifted over to the hallway to Alexander’s study. It was dark in the room, but John found himself able to see just fine. There were open books scattered about on the desk, and a bottle of ink still open next to a piece of paper that had a half-finished letter on it. It must’ve been from when Alex had been told to go home, before he returned for the battle of Yorktown. It seemed to be addressed to Angelica, and though he wasn't an expert on the English language, John did notice an out-of-place comma at the beginning. 

He wondered if it was just an accidental drop of ink, and maybe that’s why the letter was never finished. After all, Alexander wasn't one to make grammatical errors and ignore them. 

John’s eyes scanned the room, and fell on one of the open books. It wasn't one he recognized - some book of poems. He was sure Alex had at least 20 others like this one. He began to flip through the pages until one in particular caught his eye.

_ “Do not stand at my grave and weep, _

_ I am not there. I do not sleep _

_ I am a thousand winds that blow. _

_ I am the diamond glints on snow. _

_ I am the sunlight on ripened grain. _

_ I am the gentle autumn rain. _

_ When you awaken in the morning’s hush, _

_ I am the swift uplifting rush, _

_ Of quiet birds in circled flight. _

_ I am the soft stars that shine at night. _

_ Do not stand at my grave and cry; _

_ I am not there. I did not die” _

John slammed the book shit in surprise as the sound of a gunshot rang through the house. He heard Eliza get up, and quickly as she could, open the nearest window to see what happened. John whisked away to the next room where she stood at the windowsill, book long forgotten. 

“Eliza,” he said gently, not wanting to frighten her. He then realized that no, Eliza couldn't see him. Which was a problem he’d have to figure out later. Right then, he really just wanted to know what was happening outside. He glanced over Eliza’s shoulder, not wanting to get any closer to her just yet, and saw men shouting outside. But the shouts weren't ones of war, or sorrow like he had feared. No, he realized, as Eliza gasped with joy, they were cries of victory. He could faintly hear cheers of:

“We won, we won, we won!” 

_ We won. _

The war was over, we won.

Alex and Herc and Laf won.

Eliza won and her unborn son won.

We had won. 

John glanced down at his semi-visible form.

Well,  _ they  _ had won.

For all John could tell, his own battle had just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> Poem:  
> "Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep", written by Mary Elizabeth Frye (1905-2004)  
> \--  
> So I know, this wasn't my most angsty work, but I promise the angst levels will increase as we go along!! Also, sorry for another WIP, this one I swear I'll actually finish! ( tho the posting dates wont be consistent )


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